


we are not shining stars

by QueenWithABeeThrone



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Community: makinghugospin, F/F, F/M, Kink Meme, M/M, Multi, Reincarnation, coffee dates, courf is a girl but she can still flirt like a pro, enjolras needs to quit flirting so much, gavroche is a teeny badass, grantaire does not like being sober for eighteen years goddammit, grantaire wants to drink through life dammit none of this dancing shit, grantaire's cat is a little shit, grantaire's mother is a cookie goddess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 02:25:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenWithABeeThrone/pseuds/QueenWithABeeThrone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The members of Les Amis are reincarnated and meet up with each other over the years, but they only encounter Enjolras come university. And...well, he's not at all what any of them expected.</p>
<p>Or, in which there is reincarnation, regrets and reunions to warm the heart. Also, coffee dates, movie nights, cats, social justice, Tumblr, and the Big Apple.</p>
<p>
  <i>"Maybe he was at Occupy Wall Street," Feuilly theorizes, knocking back a shot of whiskey. "It's certainly up his alley."</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>"Maybe he isn't in America," Bahorel says, chugging a mug of beer. "Maybe he's protesting somewhere in Asia, or something."</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>"Or in jail, serving time for disturbing the peace," Combeferre adds.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>"Or maybe he's a she, and he's shouting about women's rights at this very moment," Courfeyrac says, leaning heavily on Grantaire beside her.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the reunion of a group that barely missed becoming historic

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted for [this prompt](http://makinghugospin.livejournal.com/11823.html?thread=3270959#t3270959) at the Les Mis kink meme. Will update that first before this one.
> 
> I suppose I should dump the modern names here so no one gets confused when I bring them up again later, because though the narration's going to use the names we're all used to calling them most of the time, I can't say the same about the bystanders in-universe. HERE.
> 
> Russell Gillespie (originally Harrison) - Grantaire  
> Joshua Gillespie - Bahorel  
> Courtney Wilkins - Courfeyrac  
> Benjamin Abel - Marius Pontmercy  
> Christopher Abel - Combeferre  
> Charlotte Perkins - Cosette Fauchelevent  
> Jeffrey Aldridge - Jehan Prouvaire  
> Elizabeth Ramirez - Eponine Thenardier  
> Franklin Sasseville - Feuilly  
> Aaron Foster - Joly  
> Molly Harper - Musichetta  
> Bruce Sullivan - Bossuet Laigle  
> Thomas Rogers - Gavroche Thenardier

It starts in 1832, France, but everyone knows what happened then already: the failed rebellion, the blood of schoolboys staining the cobblestones, the dreams crushed by cruel reality. Few know the names of the schoolboys who died then, and even fewer know what happened to the lone survivor.

What absolutely no one knows, though, is that the world wasn't quite done with them yet.

\--

It's the first day of kindergarten, and already Russell hates it. There are too many girls around and too few boys, and not enough chocolate milk or chocolate chip cookies, and the teacher keeps trying to put them to bed and get him to talk with his classmates when he doesn't want to, it just isn't _fair_.

It's break time, and he's off in his corner drawing a house and a garden, like the one his mother tends to, when one of the few boys walks up and says, "That looks really pretty."

"Thanks," he says, then looks up--

\--and it's a good thing he's sitting down, because the years and years and years' worth of memories would be too much for him had he been standing. It is, in fact, enough to momentarily rob him of speech, and when he does open his mouth, all he can do is sputter, "Bahorel?"

Bahorel grins. "Hi, Grantaire," he says. "It's Josh now, I think."

Grantaire doesn't bother to greet him back, just launches himself at the other boy with intent to hug, and somehow they end up on the floor crying and babbling in a mixture English and French and incoherent sobs.

One of the other boys starts laughing and calls them both sappy girls, and though Grantaire could not care any less what anyone called him, he and Bahorel are still five years old, despite the fact that they have more memories now than any other five-year-old (he's certain). It isn't much of a shock, then, that Bahorel gets up, disentangles Grantaire from him, and marches up to the boy who called them sappy girls to throw a punch.

At some point the fight still manages to include Grantaire nevertheless, and once the teacher comes back and manages to break up the fighting, he and Bahorel get sent to time-out.

Neither of them, though, can bring themselves to care.

(They're inseparable, from that moment onward.)

\--

They find Courfeyrac in the first grade when, midway through the year, Mrs. Priestley announces that they have a new student, and would they please welcome Miss Courtney Wilkins to the class.

Bahorel almost chokes on the candy he is most definitely Not Eating when Courtney walks in, because even as a girl in a dress with wild red curls, he'd recognize Courfeyrac anywhere. So can Grantaire, but he's gotten better at being subtle.

None of that subtlety helps when Courfeyrac sits down next to him, leans across and whispers, "Fancy seeing you here, R."

Mrs. Priestly has to send all three of them out because of the noise they're kicking up, but none of them really care about that, not when they're trying to catch each other up on their lives so far.

\--

Sixth grade brings a rational, logical, glasses-wearing student who has no idea why one of his classmates has ambushed him with a hug outside of school, at least until Courfeyrac starts talking to him in French and calling him Combeferre.

It's actually rather heartwarming, really, up until the point where Combeferre says, "I think I'm starting to make sense of Ben's actions this morning."

Courfeyrac lets go. "Who's Ben?" she asks.

"My brother," Combeferre says. "And also Pontmercy."

\--

Marius, as it turns out, goes to another school entirely, which is why Grantaire and Bahorel are bodily dragged by Courfeyrac to the Abel household ("on a weekend!" Bahorel protests) to go see him and Combeferre.

"I have to admit," Grantaire dryly says, when he walks in on Marius and some lovely girl hugging each other on the couch and crying about how they'll never leave one another ever again, "this is much better than Mom's soaps."

Marius and the girl immediately jump apart, blushing like maidens. "Grantaire!" Marius exclaims, pulling himself to his feet and moving to pull Grantaire into a hug. "I've missed you."

"Yeah, yeah," Grantaire mutters, feeling all too lost. "It's nice to see you again as well, Pontmercy. Can you let go of me now, though?"

"You're Grantaire?" the girl asks, standing up as Marius pulls away and returns to her side. She's lovely, certainly, but he's certain he hasn't seen her before. "Marius told me a lot about you. And the rest of the Les Amis." She bows her head--she's got some manners. "I'm Cosette, it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

_Oh._ "You're the lovely lady who ensnared him in France," he guesses. "I must admit, I almost thought he just made you up."

Marius is blushing fiercer now, stuttering his way through a protest, but Cosette just laughs. "Oh, I assure you, monsieur," she says, "I'm very real."

\--

Seventh grade brings Jehan, and it's entirely by accident that Combeferre stumbles across one of his poems in the school newspaper. And of course they'd recognize Jehan's style of writing, even now.

"How are you so sure this Jeffrey Aldridge is our poet?" Grantaire asks, taking a swig from the flask of iced tea he carries around. His mother--and since she got married to Bahorel's father, him as well--will not allow him anywhere near any kind of liquor, and he has stayed frustratingly sober for twelve full years. "He could just be some guy who just happens to have the same style as Jehan did. We haven't even _seen_ him yet."

Bahorel swats at him, says, "As cynical as ever, Grantaire. Have some faith!"

"I'm realistic," Grantaire replies, but any doubts he has about Jeffrey's identity disappears when he spots him, by chance, in the hallways at school.

Convincing Jeffrey himself to listen to them, though, is much harder.

"Who are you, and why are you talking to me in French?" he asks Courfeyrac when she corners him.

Courfeyrac pauses, then very slowly smiles, and ruffles his hair. "You'll see," she tells him.

\--

A week later, he does, thanks to Combeferre and Courfeyrac commandeering the guest room at Bahorel and Grantaire's house to make copies of Jehan's poems from memory.

("Dad is going to kill them," Bahorel remarks, when he sees the guest room's walls covered in notes.

"Not if Mom bribes him with cookies," Grantaire laughs.)

\--

Eponine is next, just three weeks later.

In Marius's defense, he hadn't really meant to stalk her around the mall. He'd just gone to pick up a few things for Cosette, and Eponine had been at the ice cream parlor and the bookstore and the electronics store and did it count as stalking if you really, truly, honestly had not meant to turn up at the same places she was at?

Also, she has a mean right hook.

(She does apologize for the black eye, after Cosette corners her at school and manages to bring her around, but only after Marius apologizes for the stalking, however accidental it might have been.)

\--

Feuilly, under the name of Franklin Sasseville, transfers into Marius's class in eighth grade.

It takes them two months to get him to remember, or at least that's as near as Grantaire can figure, seeing as he only sees Feuilly when he shows up to one of their weekend meetings and settles in like he's always been there.

\--

Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta transfer in separately over freshman year, and despite any of Courfeyrac's, Combeferre's, Jehan's or Bahorel's best efforts, the three of them are so busy that even Courfeyrac's ability to corner people in the hallways fails them here.

Some things, however, never change, and among them are the following: that Joly is a hypochondriac and Bossuet is, quite literally, a walking disaster zone, so one day Grantaire limps into the clinic with a sprained wrist to find Joly nearly clinging to Bossuet, who fell down the stairs and broke his leg, and Musichetta very gently hugging them both.

"Cute," he remarks.

"Grantaire!" Joly practically shouts, and to his credit he doesn't make any effort to get up off his bed. "I'd hug you, but I think I've got the flu."

"You hugged me," Bossuet points out, but he's smiling nonetheless.

Musichetta laughs, gets up and says, "I'll give him a hug for you boys, that sound all right?"

"Oh, no," Grantaire groans. "I think I've had enough hugging for a lifetime--hey, hey, owowow, watch it!"

"Sorry," she says, letting go and turning to Joly and Bossuet. "Don't you dare die on me again. If any of you do, I will bring you back just to kill you again, do you understand?"

"Understood, 'Chetta," Joly says, as Grantaire limps over to a spare bed far away from them.

"Understood," Bossuet echoes, then, to Grantaire, asks, "Is that alcohol?"

He snorts, and answers, "I wish. No, this is iced tea. I've been sober for fourteen years, unfortunately."

"Good for you!" Joly pipes up, and launches into some rant about alcohol poisoning and how drinking too much liquor could kill you that Grantaire only half-listens to, as he's always wont to do.

\--

Gavroche pops up when they're in their senior year, a freshman at the top of his class (something Courfeyrac still finds quite funny to this day). They don't even know he's there until he just shows up at Marius and Combeferre's place, eating Grantaire's mother's cookies.

"Tell me you at least left some for us," Courfeyrac says, when she sees the completely clean tray.

Eponine huffs out a laugh. "I don't think he did," she remarks. "Did you, Gav?"

Gavroche gulps down the last of the cookies, grins and says, "Not a single one," then burps. "They're delicious. Who made them?"

"Do you think Mrs. Gillespie's up for baking any more?" Jehan asks. "They're the best part of the meetings."

"And the movies aren't, is that what you're saying?" Courfeyrac counters, though she's smiling.

"Titanic was the best part of last week's meeting, I'll concede that," Eponine remarks, moving to stand beside her brother. "I was starting to think I'd never see you again," she whispers.

"Have more faith in me, Eponine," Gavroche whispers back. "I hear you're dating somebody now. Who is it?"

Eponine smiles, then glances at the doorway, where Marius and Cosette are talking with one another and swapping notes. "I think the proper pronoun is 'they'," she says.

\--

Out of all the familiar faces, though, there's one that none of them still have yet to see, and that Grantaire misses the most. Sure, the meetings are great and all, and they've pulled off quite a few protests over the years, but without Enjolras around, it isn't exactly the same.

"So where do you think our fearless leader went?" he asks, the day after graduation day at Feuilly's. It's just him, Courfeyrac, Bahorel, Combeferre and Feuilly himself in the Sasseville house, which is definitely more expensive than Feuilly could've ever afforded in his past life. There's a wine cellar and a pantry full of liquors, for God's sake, and damn if Grantaire's not making up for eighteen years spent in sobriety, though he's grown fond of iced tea and apple juice. "Righting one of society's great wrongs, I'd imagine."

He suspects they've all been just waiting to be able to drink alcohol again, because Courfeyrac is clutching a half-empty bottle of wine close to her chest and is swaying noticeably in her seat.

"Maybe he was at Occupy Wall Street," Feuilly theorizes, knocking back a shot of whiskey. "It's certainly up his alley."

"Maybe he isn't in America," Bahorel says, chugging a mug of beer. "Maybe he's protesting somewhere in Asia, or something."

"Or in jail, serving time for disturbing the peace," Combeferre adds.

"Or maybe he's a she, and he's shouting about women's rights at this very moment," Courfeyrac says, leaning heavily on Grantaire beside her.

_Or maybe he hasn't been born at all_ , a small, treacherous part of Grantaire says inside his head. He quickly pushes the thought away, and gulps down the absinthe. Everyone else is here, even Gavroche, even Eponine and Cosette and Marius. There is no reason why Enjolras wouldn't be around as well.

So instead he says, out loud, "Shame if we find him and he drags us to a protest without so much as an 'I've missed you.'"

"I would be surprised if he didn't," Combeferre remarks.

"I'd be even more surprised if he hasn't learned how to take a break by now," Bahorel adds, his speech slurred by the copious amounts of beer.

" _God,_ yes," Courfeyrac mutters, now quite drunk. "You remember, right, 'Ferre? Got sick one time and absolutely refused to get some rest. Had to get Bahorel to haul him up to his bed."

Grantaire shivers at the memory--he remembers it, all right, remembers the awful coughing and how sickly Enjolras had looked, shivering under the blankets.

"I remember," Combeferre sighs.

"Misery all around for a week," Feuilly adds. "It's the twenty-first century, though, who's to say he hasn't learned how to take a break and have some fun?"

"Stubborn ass," Courfeyrac pronounces, her bottle empty.

Grantaire laughs, raises his flask in the air. "To graduation," he says. "And to Enjolras, our stubborn ass of a fearless leader. May he at least have learned to have a little fun."

(Later on, he wonders if he should've said something else instead. Like, say, "May he stay the same stubborn ass he's always been.")


	2. a meeting of fortune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Enjolras appears, Courfeyrac is worried about her ice cream fix, and Jehan fears for his life. Cats and clubs are mentioned, not necessarily in the same sentence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to my New York readers, especially those at NYU, if this is inaccurate.
> 
> Little details: this picks up about a year after their high school graduation (which I may or may not write about, depending on who wants shenanigans), and they've all moved to New York (though not necessarily the same borough). Grantaire, Jehan, Eponine and Bahorel elected to take a gap year, supposedly to adjust and familiarize themselves with the Big Apple. Supposedly. Grantaire used to have an apartment of his own, but then he got kicked out and crashed on Jehan's couch and he's been there ever since.
> 
> ...also, Courfeyrac bought Avril Lavigne's Best Damn Thing and played it everywhere, to the point where the Amis had to stage An Intervention. It was a very dark time for Marius.

He's screwed.

He is overwhelmingly, humiliatingly, embarrassingly screwed over if he is late to the first day of student orientation, and the only thing that makes him feel any better about it is that Grantaire didn't wake up in time either.

"You," Jehan snaps, as he holds on for dear life, "are the worst. Roommate. Ever."

"Technically we're not roommates anymore," Grantaire replies, as he speeds past a red light and narrowly avoids hitting a lovely old lady, dammit, R. "At least not after today, with you moving into Hayden Hall and everything--"

" _Watch out for that tree!_ " Jehan shrieks, and Grantaire narrowly swerves, cursing all the while. "And we're still roommates while it isn't official! Can't you drive any slower?!"

"If you hadn't broken the alarm clock I wouldn't need to drive this fast!"

It's right then, of course, that Jehan's phone belts out Avril Lavigne, and Grantaire just barely avoids slamming into a lamp post as Jehan fishes about in his bag and pulls out his phone.

\--

_Courf:_ where r u guys

_Courf:_ its about to start

_Jehan:_ HELP ME COURF

_Jehan:_ R DRIVES LIKE A SPAZ

("I do not!" Grantaire scoffs, and Jehan nearly throws his phone at him.

"Eyes on the road!")

_Courf:_ i knew it

_Courf:_ u do watch btvs oh hon im so proud

_Jehan:_ NOW IS NOT THE TIME

\--

Courfeyrac's not sure if she'll ever truly believe the fact that she's walking in New York and going to NYU. It's been a year, and yet she still can't help but hum Frank Sinatra when she steps out.

She's humming Frank Sinatra and walking to the entrance, scanning the crowd and the passers-by for a familiar face, when she spots Grantaire's old Plymouth barreling down the street, and she steps back almost instinctively. She's not sure what's scarier most of the time--Grantaire driving drunk or Grantaire driving _sober_ , and in a hurry to boot.

She checks her watch again, lets out a laugh as the Plymouth, by some stroke of luck, manages not to park into anything, and waves her two friends over when they scramble out of the car. "Over here!" she shouts.

"Courf!" Jehan exclaims, running on over to give her a hug. "NYU, can you believe it?"

"I've been here a year and I still can't," she says. "How's Poe?"

"The damn cat thinks she owns the place," Grantaire remarks as he saunters on over, uncapping his flask to take a quick swig. "I have half a mind to just lock her out."

"You can't lock her out," Jehan scolds him, breaking away. "She'll starve to death!"

"She'll thrive, I believe," Grantaire shoots back, doing his best to project an "I don't care" vibe, but Courfeyrac has seen him with the cat more than once, accompanied him to the grocery store to buy the right kind of milk when Jehan was too sick to do it. She's not the only one who's changed in this life. "But I'll take care of her for you, seeing as you're so attached to her. Shame Hayden doesn't allow pets."

"I know you will," Jehan replies, then, to her, asks, "Are we late?"

She shakes her head. "Nah, you're just in time," she assures them, then nods to the crowd already surging forward. "Go on, get moving, or else you really will be late."

Grantaire laughs, twists the cap back onto his flask and claps Jehan on the back. "You heard her, dear Prouvaire," he says, already tugging Jehan along, "get going."

She watches them go and smiles at the sight. Then she turns--

\--and bites off an angry tirade when someone bumps into her, hard enough that they're both knocked to the ground, and her anger dissolves quickly when she gets a good look at the man's face.

She'd recognize it anywhere, even with his blond hair tucked underneath a knit cap, even in a rumpled red jacket and skinny jeans, and of course Enjolras would still have a thing for red. _Of course._

"I am so sorry," Enjolras says, getting to his feet and holding out his hand. She takes it, and stands. "It's just that I'm kind of in a hurry, and I'm here for the freshman orientation--am I at the right place?"

"Yeah," she answers. She's sure he doesn't recognize her, not from how curious and just the teensiest bit guilty he looks. A shame, she wants to hug him, but she's not too keen on a repeat of what happened with Feuilly. "You new here?"

"To NYU, yeah," he says. "To New York in general? No, I'm intimately familiar with it."

Something about the way he says "intimately" sends her mind to places that it really _shouldn't_ be, at least not in public. And, okay, Courfeyrac's not exactly a virgin in this life, but she'd always figured Enjolras would be.

"Oh, really?" she lightly says.

He laughs, puts an arm around her shoulder (and doesn't _that_ just throw her for a loop) and says, his voice full of promise, "That is to say, I know where you can have the best night of your life."

"Is that a pick-up line?" she asks, because a part of her brain is still trying to process all this information and flirting back is the first thing that occurred to mind. "Because sweetheart, I've heard better lines."

"You wound me, miss," he jokes, putting a hand over his heart. "Maybe I just want to dance with somebody tonight."

_He knows how to have fun,_ she thinks, and smiles back. She'll have some fun, too. "Tell you what, mister," she says, gripping his jacket and pulling him in close, "you tell me where I can have the best night of my life, and if I find you there, I'll dance with you. Sound good?"

"Sounds great," he says, and leans in close to whisper, "The Roxy," before she lets go and watches him casually walk away.

She slips a hand into her pocket and fishes out a piece of paper, and laughter has bubbled out of her before she can stop it, uncontrollable and _happy_.

\--

_Courf:_ hey ferre

_Courf:_ ull never guess who just slipped his phone # into my pocket

_Combeferre:_ I'll bite. Who?

_Courf:_ ENJOLRAS

_Combeferre:_ You're kidding.

_Courf:_ oh thats cute but i have PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE

_Courf: [image: omgheknowshowtohavefun.jpg]_

_Combeferre:_ Good lord.

_Combeferre:_ I'm assuming he didn't recognize you.

_Courf:_ seeing as he flirted w/ me and left his # in my pocket id say its a safe bet to say

_Courf:_ no

_Courf:_ he didnt recognize me

_Combeferre:_ Does anyone else know?

_Courf:_ ferre i want u to pause for a moment and think about who uve just sent that to

_Combeferre:_ You texted everyone else before you texted me.

_Courf:_ not exactly

_Courf:_ jehan and r have their phones turned off

_Courf:_ theyre in the middle of orientation rn

_Courf:_ oh shit

_Combeferre:_ Why?

_Courf:_ theyre going to find out anyway enjolras is a freshman at nyu as well

_Combeferre:_ You want to lend R the Hugh Jackman movies or should I break out Amy Adams for the inevitable breakdown?

_Courf:_ p sure the most important question here and now is

_Courf:_ do we dare allow him near jehans ice cream stash with a bottle of vodka bc i can only see that ending in disaster and being deprived of ice cream for a week

_Combeferre:_ Let's hope it doesn't come to that.

\--

Grantaire is honestly not expecting much out of freshman orientation. From what he hears, it can be pretty fun, but he isn't holding out much hope. The organizer's pretty boring, and anyway, it's not like he's picking anyone up at these things.

Not after the last one, anyway. He's noticed his relationships are the sort of thing that Taylor Swift would have a platinum album for, and the string of breakups would be worth ten songs of angst alone, plus an Amy Adams movie marathon.

(He suspects he's infected Jehan with Muppets fever. No, scratch that--he knows. One does not simply watch The Muppets without getting Mahna Mahna stuck in their head.)

"Hey, R," Jehan says, jogging on over with some keys in his hand, "take care of Poe for me, all right?"

"She's safe with me," he promises.

Jehan lets out a sigh, then pulls Grantaire into a hug, and it's kind of really awkward but a year of living with the poet has taught Grantaire that, in Jehan's world, there is no such thing. "Oh, good."

Then he pulls away, flounces off to god knows where (possibly to exchange poems and phone numbers with that hippie girl Grantaire pointed out at him), and leaves Grantaire alone.

He sighs, digs into his pocket, and curses. Great, he's gone and forgot his phone. He needs to drink more than he already has, but there's an organizer over there shooting him dirty looks and anyway, the vodka in his flask is too watered-down to have much of an effect--

\--he turns, catches sight of blond hair and a red jacket--

\-- _(be easy, he'd whispered long ago)_ \--

\--and he can't _breathe_ , because he knows that face, would know it anywhere. And it is currently moving towards him in skinny jeans and a knit cap and _good lord_.

He glances away for a moment, breathes in and out. Enjolras--Enjolras is _here_ , on the same campus as he is, and he is barely able to comprehend all that when he glances back and, yep. Yep, Enjolras is walking on over to him.

"Hey," he greets, and for a moment Grantaire almost fools himself into thinking he remembers, "you rooming here?"

"Nope," he answers. "A friend of mine is, but apparently the place he's moving into doesn't allow cats picked up off the street and nursed back to health. You?"

"No, too inconvenient," Enjolras says. "I find it easier to live off-campus, anyway."

He's about to ask him what he means, because really, have you _seen_ New York at rush hour, when Jehan joins them again, looking rather happy.

"Hey, R, I've got a," and he glances at Enjolras, and there's the slightest of pauses before he continues on, smooth as ever, "date tonight, and by the way, who's this?"

"Elijah Miller," Enjolras answers, smiling and holding out his hand. "Politics, Classics, all that."

"We're in the same class, then," Grantaire remarks. "I'm taking Art and Classics as well." Deciding on Classics had been done in the spur of the moment, and he'd been drunk at the time, but he'd always figured he'd be an Art major. "Russell Gillespie. This is my friend, Jeff Aldridge, he's taking Creative Writing."

"You forget Literature and Psychology," Jehan says. "A pleasure to meet you, Elijah."

"Just call me Eli," Enjolras replies, draping an arm over Grantaire's shoulders, careless and carefree and clueless to the sudden hitch in Grantaire's throat. "Speaking of your date, any plans for tonight? I know a few places."

"A walk in the park, mostly," Jehan says. "Nothing more romantic than that."

"How about a night at the Roxy?" Enjolras asks, and Grantaire can vaguely remember meeting his first boyfriend in New York there. Vaguely, because he was smashed over losing his first girlfriend. He's also pretty shocked, because Enjolras? Clubbing? Those are two things he never even thought of in the same sentence. "What say you?"

Jehan shakes his head. "No, too noisy," he says. "But Russ likes them."

"Yeah," Grantaire says. He's met quite a few people that way, one night stands and bad relationships alike. "I just don't get to go often enough."

"Lucky for you the Roxy is one of the best in town," Enjolras remarks, breaking away to unzip his bag and fish out his notebook, to tear out a page. "Can't find my pen. I don't suppose you have any?"

Jehan makes a face--Grantaire knows how hard it is for him to part with a pen--but hands over his pen anyway. "Here," he says. "Just take care of it, all right?"

"No worries, this'll be quick." Enjolras scribbles something down, then hands the pen back over to Jehan and slips the paper into Grantaire's hand.

"One of the best, you say?" Grantaire asks, very determinedly not looking down at the paper. "How long have you been in New York?"

"A year, give or take a week or two," Enjolras answers, hefting his bag up again and walking off. "Trust me, it's one of them. See you around, Russ!"

Grantaire stares after him, then finally looks down at the paper in his hand. "515 West 18th," it reads, and at the bottom is a string of numbers.

"Did he just--" Jehan starts, looking over his shoulder.

"Leave me his phone number?" Grantaire doesn't bother to keep the shock out of his tone, stuffing the paper into his jacket pocket. "He did. He very much did."

\--

_Courf:_ this is a mass text

_Courf:_ im going out tonight whos in

_Jehan:_ Courf i just saw your text from earlier

_Jehan:_ guess who gave r his # @ orientation

_Courf:_ oh my god

_Jehan:_ I'd post pics but we're both 2 stunned 2 even think rn

_Jehan:_ but y he definitely gave r his # + a club

_Courf: [image: omgheknowshowtohavefun.jpg]_

_Jehan:_ You 2?

_Courf:_ wanna come

_Jehan:_ No i have a date already

_Courf:_ ur pretty fast but good luck on the date

_Courf:_ u r so missing out though

_Courf:_ i hope u score on ur first day

_Jehan:_ How did i know you were going 2 say that

_Jehan:_ and thanks

_Jehan:_ just don't get arrested for public indecency again, or combeferre might revoke your ice cream privileges if he has 2 bail you out again

_Courf:_ that was one time

_Courf:_ and i make NO PROMISES

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am aware that the Roxy closed years ago. For the purposes of this fic, though, it's open.
> 
> In the next chapter: more texts, more Amis, and possibly clubs.


End file.
